black holes and all that

“I feel like I am loosing myself ... or have already lost myself. As if I don’t exist and am falling into oblivion..... and all my anchors to the normal world have been unhooked; I am floating emptily in nothingness.”

He nods wisely. “Nihilism” he says. “Very common experience with chronic illness and isolation.”
Various snippets of black humour and darkly comedic images run through my mind, and we share a laugh about them. Aliens and black holes and “mind the gap” on the London Underground..... I am glad my psychiatrist can be flexible and humorous, and that i still have some ability to imagine and to communicate. But my chest, my stomach, my brain hurt with the fear that beyond illness I shall never rebuild a real sense of connection with life, self, people and the world again .....
That I will always feel like a shadow, or a phantom. I shall have to haunt the edges of my own former vibrant life....
I know this is not the absolute truth, but I don’t know (at this time) that it’s not real.....
"Nihilism is not only despair and negation, but above all the desire to despair and to negate." (wrote Albert Camus.)

I remember telling someone, once, that I had descended from depression to despair. A place where you would want to obliterate yourself and everything;......... if you could actually be bothered to get off the sofa. Of course, sensible mental health awareness demands that if we get to this level of weary, struggle: we take action, get some help.
Which, I did. And do. So I hold on and I keep finding ways to make each day meaningful, and to create a sense of purpose. Commmunicate with others. Perform small tasks, achievements. All good anchors. And there’s the anti-depressants, of course. Not that I am saying that all moments of existential angst (and tx struggles) require medication: but mine is prolonged and profound enough to necessitate that.

Anyway, what makes us feel at home with ourselves? Maintain identity? Just that simple feeling of being and of some flow in life (so easy to take for granted when it’s present, so painfully raw and harsh when it is absent for long periods of time.)
I suppose it’s different for everyone but much of it will be down to what we are familiar with – our way of doing things and habitual routines over time. Having been of a bit of a philosophical nature (and frequent over-thinker) since quite a young age – I long ago got past believing that my identity was formed by or dependent on social roles. (Mother, daughter, professional title, Helper, Best Friend and what you will .......)
What I have discovered though is how much of my identity was linked to doing ..... the activities and involvements of everyday life. That’s the habitual aspect of our particular individual MO’s. So when we are ill and totally flat on our backs and incapacitated for long (long) periods of time - what happens to one’s sense of functioning and being part of the world and of having creative choices ......?

You have to be increasingly and extraordinarily resourceful and inventive (over and over again) to maintain that through chronic illness.

I was a person who DID a lot; aside from work and the mechanics of life: gardening; hosting lovely, relaxed dinner parties; arts, crafts, , festivals; exploring the world.....
What happens to your mind – and your feeling of “this is me, and this is my life, which I shape” when you are lying on the couch for days on end and staring at nothing? When even the capacity to distract yourself with sedentary activities, such as reading or watching tv, is gone.....?

Sometimes I have discovered such profound and subtle levels of boredom that I was convinced if I took it to one more degree (one more hint shade of grey) that I might have some extraordinary mystical experience of being-and-not being.

I didn’t.

I just learned how to keep going, moment by moment, breath by breath, day by day. And to appreciate: relief gained when sleep (erratically) came along; the lifeline of being able to communicate with others via the written word and the moments when my mind did click into engaging with something for a while ....

How lucky I am to have been able to continue to write (sometimes) and to have people who have read and responded to what I have written.. Otherwise, like Alice I might be concerned that:

it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, `in my
going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be
like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is
like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember
ever having seen such a thing.


with love, eva day.